Our Night at the Oscars*

So last night New York Magazine threw its annual Oscar party at the Spotted Pig, and even though everyone had promised themselves they would act professionally and not drink too much, by the time Best Picture was announced, Chris was in the corner stroking Alan Cumming’s beard and Jessica was wondering if it would be okay to ask Dave Zinczenko if she could touch his abs. Or the abs of Dan Abrams and Bill Hemmer, who were (as always) hanging out with him. Really, any abs would do. Happily, our man Darrell Hartman was there asking the important questions. “So, have you ever drunk anyone’s milkshake?” he asked stylist Kate Schelter. “I’ve shared a milkshake,” she replied dubiously. Diane Neal from Law & Order drifted by, looking judicious. “Julian Schnabel has been going to events in pajamas,” Darrell said, importantly. “What do you think about that?” Diane replied that she had been wearing pajamas until moments before arriving at the event. “I have the onesie footie pajamas, but they do not have the button on the anus,” she said. “I gotta say, the only problem is when you have to go to the bathroom. It gets pretty cold, because you have to take everythingoff.”

Darrell was speechless. Did Casey Novak just say anus? He recovered nicely. Diane should get the kind with the flap in the back, he suggested. Like a union suit! She could wear them to the next Emmys! Actually, they’d actually come in handy. “I peed a lot at the Emmys,” Neal said. “I peed three times at the Emmys, and each time I was accosted by fans who’d won tickets from like a radio station to be at the Emmys and they would look over the stall. Thank God for enormous dresses, because you’re sitting there and girls are like ’Oh my God, are you from Law & Order? I looooove youuuuuu. Yeah, I won these tickets on KPYX.’ I’m not kidding. ’How you doing? You’re peeing forever! Oh my God, that’s like Austin Powers!’” Darrell laughed politely and tried to act like he had never done that before. Suddenly, Nick Denton arrived, having just fired Gawker writer Maggie Shnayerson via e-mail moments beforehand. Across the room, Jessica reeled into Phylicia Rashad’s date for the evening, causing the poor woman to spill a kalamata-olive martini all over her long, feathered wrap. She later learned that this person was actually Debbie Allen, which Jessica totally should have known since she had watched a marathon of Girlfriends that very weekend. What? It’s alwayson.

As it happened, Allen is no stranger to wardrobe issues. On one red carpet, she said, “I wore this top that was designed by Issey Miyake. It was kind of made out of black scuba-diving fabric, and it had these black cups that were my breasts,” she explained. Pretty! “It actually looked pretty hot,” Allen explained, sensing perhaps that description did not do the outfit justice. “I got on the Worst Dressed list, but it was a beautiful picture.” Well, that’s all you can hope for. At that point, Eddie Izzard whistled, loudly, to get everyone to shut up. Kate Schelter ignored him and kept talking. “I’m going to get them to turn the volume up,” Izzard grunted, and bounced off to find the keeper of the remote. Alan Cumming was not intimidated, either. “I think I’d like to do George Clooney, just to see what it was like,” he mused aloud. “For research purposes, because everyone swoons about him. I’d like to see if he’s got the goods” Then Eddie Izzard came back with the remote control, turned the volume up, and drowned everyoneout.